Healing
by thisisfaycountri
Summary: Harry is angry and hurt after his fifth year. His neighbor's father just wants to help him heal.


QLFC submission

Season 6: Caerphilly Catapults

Round 7, Chaser 2: You can use the film for inspiration however you wish, but your prompt is only the film listed, not the entire franchise. (The Next Karate Kid, 1994)

Prompts: (Object) Letter, (Word) Limitless, (Word) Deplorable.

Word Count: 1,763

"Who's the child over there?" I ask Sarah, eyeing the kid in the front yard across the street. He'd been out there when I showed up at my daughter's house at six this morning. It was past noon now, and he was still out there, dutifully doing his chores with no pause. We were on her front porch now and I had a full view of the angry looking kid.

"Oh, that's Harry. He's the Dursley's nephew." She says this with a sad look on her face, and I give her a sharp look.

"What?" she says defensively.

"What's wrong with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said that like it was a bad thing." She snorts and I grin at her reddening face.

"It's just… living with the Dursley's is hard on him. They say that he's a delinquent, and that's why he is always working. But I talked to him the other day and he was the politest fifteen-year-old I've ever met. Much better than their biological son anyway. And he's too skinny!" She starts ranting about all the things that were wrong with how he was treated, all while I was watching the kid weed the garden, water it, trim the roses, and mow. He still hasn't stopped, and the scowl on his face hasn't dropped. Her list of things wrong with the Dursley's, in general, seems to be limitless if the amount of time she was talking was anything to go by.

"-and now he's always sad or angry, and it's just heartbreaking to think about."

"What? Why?" I ask, tuning in again.

"That's what I talked to him about the other day. I asked why he was so sad. Apparently, he'd just found out about his godfather and before the school year ended he was killed in front of him. I'm not sure how that happened, they say that they send the kid to St. Brutus', but I'm more inclined to believe him than that long-necked woman he calls an aunt."

"How long ago was that?" I ask, shocked. Surely the kid was mourning still, especially if he witnessed a murder.

"Supposedly last week."

"Is he going to a psychiatrist? Or talking to someone?"

"Ha! He's lucky if his family remembers to feed him, there's no way they're sending him to a shrink."

"Hmmm."

I change the subject as she makes me more tea. I sit and wait, knowing that the uncle had left around the time I showed up this morning, and he should be back soon.

The kid goes inside about an hour before the uncle shows up. The size of him alarms me, having not seen him, just his vehicle this morning. I stand from my seat on the porch and stick my head in the open window near me. My granddaughter had come home from summer school and had insisted on helping with dinner. So they were both bustling around the kitchen, the ten-year-old on stirring duty.

"Sarah dear, I'm going for a quick walk to stretch my legs. Won't be more than 20 minutes." I tell her before ducking away again. I bustle across the street and make it to their fence before the man has managed to get himself out of the car. I wave and give a cheery greeting.

"Hello, sir! Just thought I'd introduce myself in case you saw me around. I'm house sitting for my daughter starting tomorrow, she's going on vacation with my granddaughter. Didn't want you worrying about a new face around." I tell him. He pauses, and I can see wheels turning before he pastes on a smile.

"I appreciate that. Wouldn't want any suspicious folk around," he says in a pleasant tone.

"No problem. I won't be around from 6 to 3, but otherwise, I'll be around."

"Oh? What kind of job do you have?" he asks, curiosity all over his features. Sarah had said that they were gossip mongers and it seems that she was right.

"Oh, I run a summer training programme for delinquent boys. Just basic rule training." I say vaguely. It wasn't exactly a lie- most young men that came to my dojo were in fact, what people would call delinquent children. 80% of them were just misunderstood, but there was a few of them that didn't have any self-control and didn't want to learn it. I've seen his eyes light up.

"Oh? How much does that cost?"

"Nothing at all. I do it in my spare time, I'm a retired Army Sergeant so I live off of that money and help families with problem children when they aren't in school." I tell him happily.

" Would you mind taking my nephew? He's a huge problem. Never listens, talks back, doesn't do anything we ask. We've sent him to St. Brutus' but he doesn't seem to take the hint." he asks a little too eagerly.

"Of course. I can take him with me tomorrow morning, have him ready by 5:30." I agree immediately. It was what I wanted him to do, to begin with, so it wasn't a problem at all.

"Excellent!"

"I leave for school tomorrow." Harry's voice behind me startles me. I turn to see him leaning on the half wall that separates a portion of my dojo away from where the parents could watch.

"I know."

"I won't see you again until next June."

"I know," I tell him, more amused now. He scowls at me but I laugh, pulling him in for a hug.

Harry had come to my classes a mess. He was angry, alone, mourning, and lashing out at anyone that pushed his buttons. His first lesson had been nothing but him fighting my seven-year-old grandson, my sons' son, and getting beat every time. When he'd finally worked some of his aggression out, he'd been all too eager to learn how to fight. I couldn't do much in the three months that I had him, but he was a whole new kid from the one who had caught my eye in June.

"Don't forget your exercises."

"I won't."

"And you keep reading those books I gave you," I tell him sternly. He nods against my chest. He'd confessed to me that doing his katas had calmed him down further, to the point he could actually start mourning for his dead godfather and to an extent the parents he never knew. He was still a hot-headed 16-year-old, but he wasn't ready to start a fight any time someone blinked at him. I'd given him some meditating aids and even a journal with prompts to write in. I'd given them to him on his birthday, and he had teared up, claiming it was the best gift he'd gotten besides his pet owl.

"Good. now, go do your forms with Ian, he's going to miss you." I push him to the mats where my grandson was bouncing on his feet. He was a green belt, advancing on his green and blue stripe quickly. Harry had just got his yellow belt, throwing himself into the exercises and spending six hours a day, five days a week. I'd promised that if he worked hard enough I'd test him his first day back.

"You're going to let him go back to that deplorable family?" My son asks, an unamused look on his face.

"I can't take him away from his family. He doesn't complain about it, and I can't file a complaint just because he's tiny for his age." I tell him as we watch the boys. As per usual, Harry gets carried away in Ian's playfulness and they're soon dissolving into a tickling fight, with Ian squealing happily.

"Boys!" I cut in finally. I wasn't as strict as I should be when it's just these two in the building since it was like their second home, but I did eventually call them into line.

"He doesn't deserve to go to St. Brutus'."

"He doesn't go there," I tell him. He gives me a startled look and I shrug.

"You know that fancy school your sister Beth went to?" I tell him, eyeing the boys to make sure they weren't listening in.

"He's a wizard?" his voice drops in shock and I nod.

"A very important one."

I hadn't known, at first. Not until Beth had dropped by with her newborn daughter. She'd seen Harry going through his katas and had nearly fainted. She had gone to school with his mother and father apparently. She told me all about Harry Potter, the boy who has to fight. It'd made me even more determined to help him in any way I could. I'm sure it confused him when I suddenly started paying even more attention to him, but he never complained about the pace of things, not even once.

"Alright Harry, Ian, go get changed," I call out finally. They race off to the showers and I start cleaning things down. Once they were out, Harry started helping. I'd told him he didn't have to the first time, he was exhausted and would be doing more when he got home, but he insisted and I hadn't told him not to since. It got it done in half the time and he was a pro by now.

"Harry, a minute please?" I tell him before he can leave. He'd started taking the bus once Sarah had gotten back from her vacation to come down every day, but his guardians didn't mind as long as he was out of their way.

"I want you to write me at least once a week," I tell him firmly. He looks startled.

"What?"

"Once a week. I want to see that pretty owl of yours. Even if it's a, I'm fine, my teachers hate me and the food sucks letter. Got it?"

"But- I- huh?" I laugh at his confused look, patting his shoulder.

"Beth, my oldest, is a muggle born witch. She went to school with your parents, but she was a Hufflepuff and didn't know them all that well. She explained who you was. I don't care if you're some big and famous wizard, I care that you write to me and let me know my favorite student is doing alright. Okay?"

"Yes sir." he murmurs, still looking a little shocked.

"Good boy. Now, off you go. Have fun at school this year, and maybe write Ian every once in a while, yeah?"

The answering grin I got at that comment was enough to ease my worry. He may be hurting, but he was healing.


End file.
